Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(2)

Sank it softly. Game.

I took his money off the table and pocketed it. Left my fifty on the table. “You want to try to get your money back, Jack?”

He was pissed now. “Hell yeah I do. And this time I’m gonna try.”

“Money down, then. You lost. Rack ’em.”

I left my fifty-dollar bill sitting there like I didn’t have a care in the world. Went over to the bar. “Shot of Jameson and another beer.”

An older guy leered over. He wore a Warriors T-shirt and had potato chip crumbs across his chin. “That’s nice of you, sweetheart. You didn’t have to buy me anything.”

I didn’t bother to even look at him, just skewered him with my silence. His face reddened and he turned his eyes back to the counter. I knocked the whiskey back. Threw one of Raiders Hat’s twenties on the bar and walked away with the beer, not bothering to ask for change.

He had racked the balls but left a centimeter of space between the lead ball and the rest of the triangle. Trying to be sneaky. Which meant he didn’t think he could beat me fair. I went over and took the triangle and reracked without a word.

“Must’ve rolled,” he said, embarrassed. Caught.

“Must have,” I said. “Money down.”

He fumbled with his wallet again. This time the bills were smaller, a few dollar bills making up the last of the fifty. I took a swallow of cold beer and broke. By this time most of the men in the bar had drifted around the table.

“Little firecracker has a shot.”

“Wonder if she’s this good at other things.”

“I could watch her bend over all night long, tell you that much.”

I ignored them. Beat Raiders Hat again. Took his money. He was done.

He eased his way toward a wall and slouched against it.

His beer-bellied friend wanted to take me on next. Maybe vengeance, maybe to stare down my cleavage some more. What did I care. I took twenty dollars off him because that was all he had.

Then I saw him.

He must have walked in while I was wrapping up the last game, because I hadn’t seen him at the door. He leaned on the bar with a beer in front of him. I checked my watch. 10:40.

I went over to the jukebox. Men watching me. Took more quarters out of my pocket. Dialed in a Rolling Stones song. Walked back to the table. Moving my hips a bit this time. Took a long, slow sip of my beer. “Who’s up?”

I beat someone else. One of them. I didn’t care who it was. The man who had come in had settled in at the bar but was watching the little crowd at the pool table with curiosity. Watching me. Wondering. I had his attention.

I took my money off the table. “I’m thirsty. Table’s open. I’m done.”

Back to the bar. Took my jacket off for the first time. Sat down near him, one empty stool between us. It was him, all right. A couple of years older than me. A thickset guy with a black goatee and dull eyes. Broad shoulders, blue-green tattoos running down both forearms.

I caught the bartender’s eye. “Another Heineken. And another shot.”

This time I didn’t take the shot right away. Left it on the bar, sipped my beer, and stared into the chipped wood. Someone had carved initials into the surface. RS & CJ 4EVER. I wondered if RS and CJ were still together. My money was on no.

“They say it’s bad manners to drink alone.”

I looked over. Directly, for the first time since he’d walked in. “Who says?”

He laughed. “They. The fuck who. I have no idea.”

“So have a drink.”

“Think I will.” He nodded at the bartender. “A shot of whatever she’s having, Teddy. Both on me.”

“No,” I corrected. “I pay for my drinks.”

He looked at me, surprised. “Never known a woman to turn down a free drink.”

“First time for everything.”

“Guess you can afford it with that pool action you got going on.”

“I could afford it when I walked in. Still can.”

He laughed again. “You’re a little sparkplug, ain’t you?”

“You don’t know me,” I said.

“But I could.”

“Could?”

“Know you. Better, anyway.”

“If?”

His turn to shrug. “If we keep talking, I guess.”

I held up my shot. “Cheers.”

We clinked shot glasses. Drank.

“Haven’t seen you in here before,” he commented.

“That’s because I’ve never been in here before.”

“Why tonight?”

I traced a red-painted nail through the wood scarring in front of me, wondering again about RS and CJ. “Do you really care?”

“Not really.”

“Exactly. I’m here. You’re here. Why search for origin?”

“Fair enough.” He looked up at the bartender. “Two more. She pays for hers.” Turned to me. “Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

“You an old dog?”

He threw a wink my way. “Not too old.”

“Then maybe we’ll try and teach you a few tricks.”

Two more Jamesons. We drank.

“I’m bored,” I said. Slid off my barstool without looking back. Back to the jukebox. Put on a slower song. “Love Me Two Times,” by the Doors. Started moving slowly by myself near the machine. Eyes on me, the whole bar. I felt him behind me. Sensed it. Like I was watching him through the back of my head. Felt a big hand tentatively cradle my hip. Moving with me. I didn’t stop him. Felt him press against me from behind. My tongue was sharp against my teeth but I didn’t stop him. We danced out the song together.